


Nobody Dances Sober

by dicks



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: B33, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicks/pseuds/dicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because she was having a difficult time pretending to be anything but devastated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Dances Sober

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Bianchi - Love; a heart the size of Tokyo

The day after she found her mother crying over Madame Butterfly, muttering _l'amore è la tragedia_ between sobs, Bianchi stormed into her little brother’s room and proposed to him. Hayato, five years old, dazed and slightly confuse, blinked madly at his sister before scowling and pushing her away - _No freaking way. Girls are disgusting! –_ but she was determined so she took his small hand and placed it on her flat chest just above her heart - because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing the one she loved like Cio-Cio San – so she said, _See? I’m not really a girl and you can love me Hayato, you can, will you? Will you love me forever?_

“I guess so,” Hayato had said, frowning slightly at the feeling of her heart beating against his palm, “Only if you promise me not to grow those ugly bumps and oh- I don’t like your cooking either, I really don’t.”

Years later she did grow the ‘ugly bumps’ and she wondered if that was one of the plenty reasons why Hayato loved her a little less.

-

It didn’t even come as a surprise when the eleven year old Lambo confessed his little crush on her.

“Lambo-san thinks that you’re very pretty.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh really?”

“Yeah — but not as pretty as that idiot Hana, but at least you let Lambo-san eats whatever he wants.”

About ten feet behind him, Tsuna was gaping and wide-eyed and looking rather more embarrassed than the confessor himself and Bianchi smiled, ruffling the young boy’s hair, murmuring, _maybe when you’re a little older but I doubt Reborn or even Hayato would approve -_ she reached her pocket and found two cherry candies and gave them to him but Tsuna was quick and his high pitch screech of ‘ _NOOOO’_ pierced the room as he snatched the candies out from Lambo’s hand right before he shoved them in his mouth.

“Urm, okay, well,” Tsuna said quietly after the drama. “No candies before dinner?”

-

When Hayato came over, barging inside her house with Takeshi Yamamoto close in tow and carrying three dozen eggs in his arms - scowling and glowering and almost begging to her, _snap out of it and start baking Goddamnit, because seriously someone needs to kill Lambo already -_ his eyes lingered a little moment in the dark house _._ The kitchen was even darker. Bianchi lounged on the kitchen seat, drinking chamomile tea and staring at the spotless counter – it had been one week since Reborn disappeared, leaving only cryptic messages, and it had also been one week she since she had used the oven or even touched the stove and she had been wondering how could a person possibly miss something like the feeling of the intense burn as fingers grazed on the scalding hot cooking pan– but she did in some way because she was having a difficult time pretending to be anything but devastated. And afterwards, she found herself baking a cake, but not before she lectured her unimpressed brother and his perpetually jovial companion on how to differentiate the good quality of eggs for half an hour.

-

Haru’s eyes never left the groom as he danced with his newlywed bride in the middle of the ballroom. The reception was exquisite and everything was in white and gold and luminous and Bianchi felt the grip of Haru’s hand tightened around hers as she watched Tsuna leaning forward, whispering something in Kyoko’s ears.

“Keep your eyes off the floor, Haru.”

“I can’t,” she said, clutching to Bianchi’s hand like a lifeline. “But I feel really happy for them Bianchi-san, I do.”

“I know you do and it’s about time to let go.”

And later, as Haru was flushed and heartbroken and gazing longingly in drunken haze as she was coquettingwith Takeshi; Bianchi thought, it was a pity how Haru incessantly winded up yearning for another person who would probably never want her back and Bianchi took a long sip of her drink while she watched Takeshi snitching a glance towards Hayato at the other side of the room, looking something resembling of hunger reflected on his face.

-

Her father was a handsome man.

Bianchi was ten and perched on his lap when he had said, _my dear, you going to be a real heartbreaker when you grow up-_ and she tilted her head a slightly, lips formed into a small pout and she protested, “But father, I don’t want to break anyone’s heart. I want to fall in love and live happily ever after, just like in the fairy tales.”

He didn’t tell her however, that there was no such thing as happily ever after.

-

It was the night after spending two hours in Vongola’s shiny new kitchen teaching the kids how to bake when she realized that she had fallen hard. Ryohei had come over, as loud as the kakapo booming and slumped on the chair before swiping two pieces of cakes into his mouth at once. She watched him eat one piece after another, then he licked the crumbs off his fingers and exclaimed, _this is extremely good, who made it?_ — and Bianchi could practically felt it in her pores as she fell deeper.

Months after that she found herself standing by the bar, nursing a glass of spumante, surrounded by a carnival of overjoyed and inebriated people; and she couldn’t shake the dreadful clump of feelings in her heart every time she caught the glint of the engagement ring on Hana’s finger.

Ryohei’s laugher vibrated in the room and Bianchi thought, this was how Haru felt- the hollowness, the heartsick, the howling in the chest that nobody else seemed to hear and she pressed the chilled glass against her temple and enjoyed the cold sensation on her skin.

“Care to dance?”

“I thought you hated girls.” She retorted, composed as ever.

“I still do,’ Hayato said, seizing her hand in his. “—and I gather that I’m little drunk and I probably will regret this tomorrow but—”

She smiled brilliantly as she let her brother escort her to the dance floor.

“—nobody dances sober.”

-


End file.
